


Aveline's Diary

by the-gothic-assassin (Paworn)



Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: Angst, Bittersweet, Crying, Dysfunctional Relationships, F/M, Gérald Blanc (mentioned), Injury, POV First Person, Possessiveness, Élise Lafleur (mentioned)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-13
Updated: 2014-11-13
Packaged: 2018-02-25 04:49:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2609108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Paworn/pseuds/the-gothic-assassin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Connor invites Aveline to the Homestead. They fall in love and decide to stay together. But their intense love turns out to be a poison rather than a cure.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Eternity within a Moment

21 June 1784, Davenport Manor

                I’m writing this in a notebook given to me by Connor for my birthday yesterday, after I told him I wanted to start keeping diary. How thoughtful of him! We also celebrated the occasion with wine and love-making. And how I love making love with him! Though lacking in experience, he more than make up for it with sincere passion. His tongue and fingers may not be as skilled as those of Élise’s, but they have much greater ardour.

                And we did it long into the night, too. In fact, he is one of the few people who can stay awake for as late as I do, whether to hunt, read, or just chat by the fireplace when the world is ours alone.

                “Achilles did not approve of this habit of mine,” he told me some nights ago, “but then he relented, seeing that I was not stirring troubles in the night, only hunting, reading and doing my own things. Night is such a peaceful time, don’t you find?”

                To which I replied, “Peaceful wouldn’t be something I attribute to Night. Free, oui, but not peaceful. Without Day’s prying eyes, one can stay in shadows and have all the actions and mischief done under a façade of peace. Night may look peaceful, but it is not, at least not in my experience.”

                “That is interesting, Aveline,” he said. Then he went quiet for some minutes, lost in thoughts. Hiding in shadows is never his strong suit. After all, this man shook hands with Washington. So what I said must have been quite foreign to him.

                We are so different, Connor and I. This was not the first or the last time we have different opinions on something. During the past seven years we have known each other, in letters at least, there have been countless of times we disagree. I like that, actually. It makes for stimulating dynamics between us.

                I think he likes it, too. Otherwise he wouldn’t have invited me up here three months ago to help him train Assassin recruits. Originally, it was all work and I was only going to be here for a month.

                And then we fell in love, and that month extended into three. It was not a difficult decision at all. Dear Gérald was taking a good care of our business in the South. (Speaking of Gérald, I know he likes me, but he never says so, and I’ve grown tired of waiting.) There were also many business opportunity here in the North should I want to expand our business. The Brotherhood back home, though small, was already running itself after years of hard work on my part. And, most importantly, here lived the man I’d grown to love.

 

23 June 1784, New York

                Connor and I came to New York again to train our recruits. There is this one woman, Deborah Carter, who has made incredible progress both physically and mentally. At first, I thought she was trying to prove that she was as good as the men. But then I saw the way she looked at me and at Connor, and knew that it was not the case. No, she was trying to impress him and intimidate me. I remember someone saying something about her being interested in him. They might have even slept as far as I know. I must say I admire her. Instead of trying to sabotage me, she chooses to improve herself and make this competition constructive. I would approve of her being with Connor if I wasn’t so in love with him.

 

25 June 1784

                You have to see the way Connor glared at the unlucky man who raised his glass to me at the pub! To be fair, he wasn’t in a very good mood. (He wanted to wind down in his room with a book, but I wanted to have a drink. I told him I could go alone, but he insisted on accompanying me.) Still, that does not excuse his behaviour. At the pub, there was a group of men who were clearly drunk. They were singing loudly and invited everyone to sing with them. Then one man turned to me, raised his glass and asked me to sing. I shook my head and laughed. Connor didn’t. Instead, he said, “I would appreciate it if you let her be,” and gave him a death glare. He apologised in fear and turned away.

                “They’re just having fun, Connor.” said I.

                “Then they should keep their fun to themselves and away from you.”

                I wanted to argue, but decided that it’s not very wise, so instead I proposed that we go back to the Assassin headquarter. I must admit that, even though I love him, his possessiveness both worries and annoys me.

 

27 June 1784, Davenport Homestead

                We’re back in the Homestead again, and already I miss New York. It’s not that I hate it here, quite the contrary. I’ve made friends with all the residents of the Homestead. But then I feel more at home in the busy city than in the sleepy countryside.

 

28 June 1784

                Connor is so sweet today. He took me to a beautiful cliff where wild flowers grow in abundance. “I wanted to take these flowers to you, but then I thought you might prefer to see them fresh in the sun,” said he. He was right.

                We spent the whole day there, kissing, laughing, enjoying ourselves. Rarely do I see him smile like this. His life and duty don’t afford him much happiness, so it’s a real joy to see him smile.

                “I wish this could last for eternity,” said he as we watch sunset together.

                “Oh, but it will,” said I, “Sometimes a moment brands itself in our memories forever. I’m sure that wherever we shall be, together or not, we’ll forever have one another in our memories.”

                “But I do not want mere memories. I want you. Here. With me.” Then he kissed me and held me tight, as if afraid of losing me. My head screamed that it was wrong, that no one should be so attached to another person. My heart, however, felt otherwise. It loved being desired and needed. It loved being the whole universe to someone. It loved being a goddess.


	2. Love Will Tear Us Apart

3 July 1784

                Last night was such a long night. I’d rather have ten assassination contracts to that! Connor is no longer angry with me, but I still feel quite frustrated. I hope writing will help clear my mind.

                I’ve visited the Inn a lot lately. Unlike Connor, I can’t content myself with books and solitude for too long a time. At first, I thought that being with the man I love would be enough. Turns out it isn’t.

                So I got dressed. Connor asked where I was heading. I told him I was heading for the Inn, and told him I’d be happy to have him join me.

                “You might as well stay there, Aveline.”

                No, this was not a light-hearted comment. This was not Gérald or Élise. This man does not jest. He was really displeased.

                “Well, Ellen is there tonight, and she wants these special buttons I brought back from New York. She wants them before the fourth of July.”

                “Oh, so she runs her business at the Inn now?”

                I could think of hundreds of comebacks for that, but anger froze my tongue. Instead, I simply went out the door as soon as I could, just to spite him.

                When I arrived at the Inn, Ellen saw that I was upset. I sat down, and asked, “Do you ever miss the city, Ellen?”

                “Sometimes. But I’ve led a good life here. This place has everything I need, and I have what people here need. Why do you ask? Do you miss the city, Aveline?”

                “Terribly,” said I, “I miss always being a stranger, talking to strangers, and have all my actions forgotten by the morrow.”

                “Well, Connor doesn’t seem like someone who forgets things.”

                “Oh,” I laughed, “He doesn’t even want me to talk to strangers!”

                “That’s… that’s not a good sign,” Ellen looked worried, “You’re both good friends of mine, and I’ve known him long enough to know that he’ll never try to hurt you, but it sounds like you two want different things.”

                He’ll never try to hurt me… He’ll never try to hurt me… I believe that he’ll never try, but whether he will actually hurt me or not, I do not know.

 

                After a few drinks, I went back to the manor. Connor was already asleep, which was strange. He only goes to sleep early when he’s exhausted or stressed. I tiptoed to our bed and thought that I had to apologise to him as soon as he woke up.

                Just as I was drifting to sleep, I heard him toss and turn and talk in his sleep.

                “Ista… Ista… Aveline?” Then He woke up, and as soon as he saw that I was by his side, he wrapped his arms around me very, very tightly.

                “Connor, I can’t breathe,” I gasped.

                “Sorry.” He let go. “I just had a nightmare, that’s all. I heard my mother calling my name from the forest, so I ran towards her voice. But instead of her, I saw you. Then you disappeared, and I was left alone in the dark, lost, with no more energy to even run back home.”

                I stroked his hair and kissed his temple. “I’m sorry, Ratonhnhaké:ton,” I whispered. (He likes it when I called him by his birth name, but I feel that it’s too special to use too often.)

                “Shh… Nothing matters now. You are here. I shall not have this nightmare again tonight.”

                Perhaps. But what of the next night, or the night after that? I used to have similar nightmares, too, but they disappeared after I discovered that my mother was alive and still loved me. His mother, however, died before his eyes. My presence lessens his nightmares, but only slightly. It’ll take more than just me to drive them away.

                “Connor?”

                “Yes?”

                “What if tomorrow I’m not around?”

                “What do you mean?”

                “You know, our work…”

                “I will not let that happen.” He put an arm around me, and I felt the suffocation that was his love.

 

5 July 1784

                We were attacked. Connor is badly wounded. Dr White told us it would take weeks for him to recover. I’m more than happy that he didn’t die, because he almost did.

                We were out hunting when it happened. It was a group of Templars. Most of them were new recruits, but a few of them were exceptionally good in combat.

                And Connor! I’ve known him to be a formidable fighter, but this time he fought like a drunk! He was too distracted, too worried, too unfocused. Instead of defending himself properly, he kept looking at me although I was more than capable of fending off the attack myself.

                “Connor, concentrate on the enemies, not me!” I had to yell.

                Finally, we were able to eliminate all of them, but not before Connor took a sword across his chest. He could barely walk to the nearest house. Fortunately, Myriam was there and was able to fetch help for him.

                We told her and Dr White that it was a bear. “Are you ill, Connor?” Myriam asked, “You never took this much damage from an animal before.”

                “Maybe I am,” said Connor, and I agreed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Connor's nightmare is shamelessly stolen from the lyrics to "A Forest" by The Cure.


	3. To Save You from Me

6 July 1784

                It pains me when I tend his wound and touch his feverish brows. After all, it was my fault. If he wasn’t so concerned about me, he would have dealt with the attack without a scratch. Why did I stay? I’ve known all along that, one way or another, the intensity of our love would destroy us. But then I chose to stay. Why? Of course, I know why. I stayed because I was a selfish fool. I drank his passion and became too intoxicated to even care that the cup we’re drinking from was laced with poison. Well, I’m sober now. This has to stop. As soon as he recovers, I’ll leave this place and save him from me.

 

8 July 1784

                I arranged to have an Assassin recruit stay with us, partly because there is no way Connor can protect himself in this state, but mostly because I can’t bear to be alone with him anymore.

                Connor noticed. “You seem uneasy when you are with me. Is there anything wrong?” he asked.

                That’s when I burst into tears. It took me a moment to regain my tongue. “Connor, I… I have to leave soon. Otherwise, we’d be tearing each other apart.”

                “But… but I love you! Don’t you love me now?”

                “I love you. I don’t even think I could stop. But this love is poison and it’s tearing into our flesh. Don’t you see?” I traced along the bandage that covered his wound.

                “No, I do not see! Have I hurt you? If so, I promise I will change. Just do not leave!” He had tears in his eyes now.

                I kissed his temple and stroked his hair. “No, Ratonhnhaké:ton, you’ve never hurt me. The only person we’ve hurt is you. Take this wound for example. You were so afraid of losing me that you forgot to protect yourself. And you mistake me for your saviour. No, darling, I cannot drive away your nightmares, your pain or your demons. I can’t save you. The only thing I can do is lie to you that I can to feed on your adoration.”

                “No Aveline, you underestimate yourself. You _are_ my saviour, my goddess even.”

                “And you are a madman, for I am no goddess, no matter how much I may want to be one.” I kissed his forehead, left the room, and sobbed uncontrollably as soon as I closed the door.

 

9 July 1784

                It is Deborah who arrived here. A week ago, this would have upset me. But now I’m glad she comes. I used this opportunity for a heart-to-heart talk with her.

                “I want him. I wouldn’t call it love, though. Then again, I don’t believe in love. It all comes down to whoever will mess you up the least,” said Deborah, “And Connor seems like someone who’s too good to mess it up.”

                “Well, he just messed it up with me,” said I.

                “Or maybe _you_ messed it up with him. No offense, but from the sound of it, you indulged his delusion at every turn until it’s too late. Some lovers are like children. They have big imagination and will think of you as some heavenly, otherworldly creature if you don’t stop them.” She stopped for a second. “Wait, don’t tell me you’re one of those girls who like that kind of attention!”

                I could feel my face going as red as my dark skin allowed.

                Deborah chuckled, “You look like you need a rest. Leave him to me. Don’t worry. He’s in good hands now.”

 

22 July 1784, somewhere on the road

                Connor has recovered. It will be a while before he can climb trees and go swimming, but his wound no longer hurts. And Deborah is still at the Homestead for now.

                I spent the past few weeks talking, talking and talking with him. Finally, he accepted that it is better for both of us to stay apart. And today is the day I left. As he sent me off to the carriage, he gave me a friendly hug and said, “Promise me you will write to me.”

                “I promise, Connor,” I replied with a reassuring smile, “I’ll write that letter as soon as I get home.”


End file.
